# 39
Title: Summon Unto Dreams.
Chapter: 1/1.
Fandom: Final Fantasy X.
Rating: PG.
Summary: It's not just her life anymore. Yuna seeks to remember what has been forgotten.
Author's Notes: The FFX fic I promised first-seventhe aaages ago. Not really spoilery, but may not make that much sense unless you've played the entire game. Then again, it might not make sense even if you've played the entire game!
“Lady Yuna,” Belgemine bowed over her cupped hands. “Why do you come here, all alone?”
Yuna pulled down her hood. Rain did not come often to the Calm Lands, hence the name, but when it did, it swept and ravaged the land, it tugged at the trees and battered the grass. Damp strands of hair clung to her forehead but her clothes were dry, owing to the overly large cloak she had bartered from Rin.
“I-I wanted answers,” she responded. Her hands were deft as she sought to smooth down her wet and tangled hair, the arms of the cloak falling back to reveal bare wrists. She had not worn her obi's sleeves.
Belgemine chuckled. The sound of it was hollow. “You've certainly come to the wrong person, my lady. All I know is what has already come to pass.” Something passed in her eyes, so much unlike a normal person's, shifting like the bottom of the Moonflow. “The future is not mine to guess at.”
“Would you die for something you knew was false?” Yuna asked, plaintively.
Belgemine's fingers shimmered, at once of the air and not. “I already have.”
Yuna's chin rose. “I should send you.”
The unsent woman made a sound, both like and unlike a sigh. “When a person dies, they are no longer bound by the forces that press Spira into oppression. That person no longer has a suffocating skin, and could go everywhere they want if it was their desire. The fear of knowledge that binds Spira, it too is gone.”
“That's not true-”
“Tell me, Yuna. What do you want?”
Yuna flinched at the interruption. “Answers,” she said, holding tight to her original response.
“I see.” Belgemine's head tilted, and with it, it was as if the entire temple moved under their feet. “Your heart is seething. You've been betrayed, everything you held dear shattered before your very eyes. Yet you continue towards the darkness every Summoner seeks. Is it your wish to die?”
Annoyance coloured Yuna's cheeks. “Was it yours?”
Belgemine did not hesitate. “Yes.” A gaze was held between them, silent and pulsing. Yuna looked away first. “Shall I tell you my story?”
Yuna shook her head. “I've heard enough from the dead.”
Another light chuckle. “I understand. You weren't wrong to come here, Yuna. However, all the answers lie within you, waiting to be unlocked. I can help you, if you'll do something for me in return.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Ah ah,” Belgemine tsked. “You'll find out in the morning, if you agree to pass the night in Remiem temple.”
The clap of rain was hard against the outer walls of the keep. Yuna nodded. “I will.”
“Once, Remiem temple was considered the centre of Spira.” Belgemine's even voice added warmth to the dank halls as they walked. “High Summoner Gandof sought refuge here many years ago, after looking out at the length of the Calm Lands and becoming afraid.”
Yuna had to hold the cloak up to keep from stumbling. “Did you know him?”
Belgemine's smile was mysterious. “Long ago, yes. He was neither the first nor the last to abscond. I offered him the same choice I offered many others... the same choice I will offer you.”
“My lady?”
“You can pass the night here, and have a dreamless sleep in a warm bed.” Belgemine stopped in front of an imposing, half-rotted door. “Or, if you truly wished to know what your heart cannot tell you, you can choose to dream. You must have noticed, to become a Summoner is to become a vessel-many lives exist within you. But, those lives are tucked away, the one grace a Summoner is given.”
Yuna inhaled sharply. “You mean my Aeons.”
The older woman's mouth twisted. “Yes. If you choose to dream, you choose to find those lives, to take heed of the voices.”
“I choose-” Yuna's neck moved as her gaze jerked left, right, forward. They weren't there to make this decision for her; Auron with his unrelenting sense of duty, Tidus with his ready smile, Lulu with her calming voice. There was no one to make this decision for her. She was as alone as she would be on the day.
“I choose to dream,” she said, firmly.
The door swung open. Belgemine's smile was fraught with secrets. “Sleep well, Lady Yuna.”
---
Besaid was just as she remembered it: warm weather like a balm on her skin, the sound of crashing waves never too far away. Children's laughter, the bark of a dog, the carefree Besaid accent her heart swelled for when she was gone.
Except it was empty. Loose hair, now dry, whipped against her mouth.
Do you know who I am? The child's skin was toast brown, speckled with the sun's rays. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna knelt down. The child's eyes shifted, and Yuna saw centuries in them. “Yes, I remember. You were my very first Aeon.”
I was the first, yes. You called for me, you knelt and promised, and I took a day from you. Did you keep your promise? Is that why we're together? the child asked.
“My promise...” Yuna took the child's hand. The skin was warm to the touch.
You promised to end it, the child said, and that we could finally sleep. Don't you remember?
“Do you want to sleep?” asked Yuna.
I don't know. The child's expression was close to tears. There were things I forgot, people and places. I can't remember them until I sleep. If you break your promise, then I can't... Small arms flung around Yuna's neck, and she held the child for a long time.
Kilika was ravaged, a bitter shadow of what it had been before Sin. The water was calm, and the cry of the birds a peaceful score as she walked along the docks.
A man, an ordinary man, with the Crusader's insignia embroidered on his tunic.
Do you know who I am? the man asked. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
The man knelt on one knee, his arm sweeping underneath him in a bow of old. Then, I will follow you, until my mind is frayed and my heart is bleeding for relief, and one day more.
Yuna was silent. The sun sank beyond the water and the air grew cold with the passing hours, and the man knelt still.
Djose was as barren and craggy as ever, dirt and dust coating the coat of the monkeys who lived there, making it dull and ugly. The temple rose high above the land, crudely carved from rock and earth.
A man stood before her, water forever streaming down his clothing, his face as lined as the ground she walked on.
Do you know who I am? he asked, his voice roughened. Do you remember the day we met?
“It was a day much like this one,” Yuna recalled.
Tell me, he began, did I serve you well? As the years stretched on in a day, was I a good sailor?
Yuna's voice was soft. “The very best, my lord.”
Then swear me free, he bowed, and I will take my leave.
The grand hall of the Macalania temple was as cold and unwelcoming as Yuna remembered it.
The woman was beautiful, eyes the colour of coal and robes of crushed apricot. The smell of jasmine followed her every step. Do you know who I am? she asked, her roughened voice the only thing to belie her young appearance. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. “I fought a great battle that day.”
The priestess smiled. Children of the temples always find each other. I will call you little sister. The smile faded, leaving only the burden of knowledge. How many more battles is it within you to fight, little sister?
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Yuna admitted.
There was an entire world of movement in the shift of the priestess' robes. It does not work that way, little sister. She looked up, the sparse beams of sun shining on her face. When I was a child, I was taken from the orphan's home when a wandering praetor saw I had the talent. I was groomed to be an apprentice Summoner, but my prayers went unheeded, and I nearly froze to death in the Chamber. I was made a Fayth, instead. Some said it was against my will and left the temple. She shrugged, looking so unlike a priestess at that moment.
Yuna took a step forward. “Was it?”
Against my will? I'm sorry, little sister. I cannot remember. To be recognised as a proper temple, a Fayth needs must. I am young, as things go. I've not yet remembered emotions.
Yuna's shoulders sank.”I'm sorry.”
The priestess smiled again, and it was filled with the radiance of the sun. Don't be sorry. Be what I could not.
Bevelle was as full of shadows and hypocrisy as ever, and her skin crawled to be back.
A boy stood in front of her, his eyes masked by his tattered hood. Do you know who I am? he asked, his voice not yet broken. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. Her head filled with the sound of voices, of Seymour's twisted laughter.
Don't be afraid, the boy said. He might have been smiling. I sent someone to help you. Please be nice to him, he cries.
The dark, untested waters of Baaj; lingering ghosts and old fears.
A simple request, words born of the wind as it beat against her ears. Stop my son.
It was dark, too dark, and smelled of rotting stone.
A man stood proudly, a hefty pouch at his waist.
Do you know who I am? he thundered. Do you remember the day we met?
“I do,” Yuna answered. It had been a hard hit on her purse.
You never get something for nothing, he continued. I'm not to deal with those who would offer false words and broken vows. There is always a price to be paid. Will you pay it?
“I will,” she said, standing tall. “I will no longer be afraid.”
---
Yuna awoke. Sunlight streamed in through the eroded holes in the wall, and she felt reborn.
“Your face is brightened anew,” Belgemine noted as Yuna walked through the foyer. Her smile was honest and clear. “Do you understand what I ask now, my lady?”
Yuna nodded. “I-yes, I understand.”
“Then go,” Belgemine cajoled, handing the Summoner her cloak. “And do not look back.”
Chapter: 1/1.
Fandom: Final Fantasy X.
Rating: PG.
Summary: It's not just her life anymore. Yuna seeks to remember what has been forgotten.
Author's Notes: The FFX fic I promised first-seventhe aaages ago. Not really spoilery, but may not make that much sense unless you've played the entire game. Then again, it might not make sense even if you've played the entire game!
“Lady Yuna,” Belgemine bowed over her cupped hands. “Why do you come here, all alone?”
Yuna pulled down her hood. Rain did not come often to the Calm Lands, hence the name, but when it did, it swept and ravaged the land, it tugged at the trees and battered the grass. Damp strands of hair clung to her forehead but her clothes were dry, owing to the overly large cloak she had bartered from Rin.
“I-I wanted answers,” she responded. Her hands were deft as she sought to smooth down her wet and tangled hair, the arms of the cloak falling back to reveal bare wrists. She had not worn her obi's sleeves.
Belgemine chuckled. The sound of it was hollow. “You've certainly come to the wrong person, my lady. All I know is what has already come to pass.” Something passed in her eyes, so much unlike a normal person's, shifting like the bottom of the Moonflow. “The future is not mine to guess at.”
“Would you die for something you knew was false?” Yuna asked, plaintively.
Belgemine's fingers shimmered, at once of the air and not. “I already have.”
Yuna's chin rose. “I should send you.”
The unsent woman made a sound, both like and unlike a sigh. “When a person dies, they are no longer bound by the forces that press Spira into oppression. That person no longer has a suffocating skin, and could go everywhere they want if it was their desire. The fear of knowledge that binds Spira, it too is gone.”
“That's not true-”
“Tell me, Yuna. What do you want?”
Yuna flinched at the interruption. “Answers,” she said, holding tight to her original response.
“I see.” Belgemine's head tilted, and with it, it was as if the entire temple moved under their feet. “Your heart is seething. You've been betrayed, everything you held dear shattered before your very eyes. Yet you continue towards the darkness every Summoner seeks. Is it your wish to die?”
Annoyance coloured Yuna's cheeks. “Was it yours?”
Belgemine did not hesitate. “Yes.” A gaze was held between them, silent and pulsing. Yuna looked away first. “Shall I tell you my story?”
Yuna shook her head. “I've heard enough from the dead.”
Another light chuckle. “I understand. You weren't wrong to come here, Yuna. However, all the answers lie within you, waiting to be unlocked. I can help you, if you'll do something for me in return.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Ah ah,” Belgemine tsked. “You'll find out in the morning, if you agree to pass the night in Remiem temple.”
The clap of rain was hard against the outer walls of the keep. Yuna nodded. “I will.”
“Once, Remiem temple was considered the centre of Spira.” Belgemine's even voice added warmth to the dank halls as they walked. “High Summoner Gandof sought refuge here many years ago, after looking out at the length of the Calm Lands and becoming afraid.”
Yuna had to hold the cloak up to keep from stumbling. “Did you know him?”
Belgemine's smile was mysterious. “Long ago, yes. He was neither the first nor the last to abscond. I offered him the same choice I offered many others... the same choice I will offer you.”
“My lady?”
“You can pass the night here, and have a dreamless sleep in a warm bed.” Belgemine stopped in front of an imposing, half-rotted door. “Or, if you truly wished to know what your heart cannot tell you, you can choose to dream. You must have noticed, to become a Summoner is to become a vessel-many lives exist within you. But, those lives are tucked away, the one grace a Summoner is given.”
Yuna inhaled sharply. “You mean my Aeons.”
The older woman's mouth twisted. “Yes. If you choose to dream, you choose to find those lives, to take heed of the voices.”
“I choose-” Yuna's neck moved as her gaze jerked left, right, forward. They weren't there to make this decision for her; Auron with his unrelenting sense of duty, Tidus with his ready smile, Lulu with her calming voice. There was no one to make this decision for her. She was as alone as she would be on the day.
“I choose to dream,” she said, firmly.
The door swung open. Belgemine's smile was fraught with secrets. “Sleep well, Lady Yuna.”
---
Besaid was just as she remembered it: warm weather like a balm on her skin, the sound of crashing waves never too far away. Children's laughter, the bark of a dog, the carefree Besaid accent her heart swelled for when she was gone.
Except it was empty. Loose hair, now dry, whipped against her mouth.
Do you know who I am? The child's skin was toast brown, speckled with the sun's rays. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna knelt down. The child's eyes shifted, and Yuna saw centuries in them. “Yes, I remember. You were my very first Aeon.”
I was the first, yes. You called for me, you knelt and promised, and I took a day from you. Did you keep your promise? Is that why we're together? the child asked.
“My promise...” Yuna took the child's hand. The skin was warm to the touch.
You promised to end it, the child said, and that we could finally sleep. Don't you remember?
“Do you want to sleep?” asked Yuna.
I don't know. The child's expression was close to tears. There were things I forgot, people and places. I can't remember them until I sleep. If you break your promise, then I can't... Small arms flung around Yuna's neck, and she held the child for a long time.
Kilika was ravaged, a bitter shadow of what it had been before Sin. The water was calm, and the cry of the birds a peaceful score as she walked along the docks.
A man, an ordinary man, with the Crusader's insignia embroidered on his tunic.
Do you know who I am? the man asked. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
The man knelt on one knee, his arm sweeping underneath him in a bow of old. Then, I will follow you, until my mind is frayed and my heart is bleeding for relief, and one day more.
Yuna was silent. The sun sank beyond the water and the air grew cold with the passing hours, and the man knelt still.
Djose was as barren and craggy as ever, dirt and dust coating the coat of the monkeys who lived there, making it dull and ugly. The temple rose high above the land, crudely carved from rock and earth.
A man stood before her, water forever streaming down his clothing, his face as lined as the ground she walked on.
Do you know who I am? he asked, his voice roughened. Do you remember the day we met?
“It was a day much like this one,” Yuna recalled.
Tell me, he began, did I serve you well? As the years stretched on in a day, was I a good sailor?
Yuna's voice was soft. “The very best, my lord.”
Then swear me free, he bowed, and I will take my leave.
The grand hall of the Macalania temple was as cold and unwelcoming as Yuna remembered it.
The woman was beautiful, eyes the colour of coal and robes of crushed apricot. The smell of jasmine followed her every step. Do you know who I am? she asked, her roughened voice the only thing to belie her young appearance. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. “I fought a great battle that day.”
The priestess smiled. Children of the temples always find each other. I will call you little sister. The smile faded, leaving only the burden of knowledge. How many more battles is it within you to fight, little sister?
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Yuna admitted.
There was an entire world of movement in the shift of the priestess' robes. It does not work that way, little sister. She looked up, the sparse beams of sun shining on her face. When I was a child, I was taken from the orphan's home when a wandering praetor saw I had the talent. I was groomed to be an apprentice Summoner, but my prayers went unheeded, and I nearly froze to death in the Chamber. I was made a Fayth, instead. Some said it was against my will and left the temple. She shrugged, looking so unlike a priestess at that moment.
Yuna took a step forward. “Was it?”
Against my will? I'm sorry, little sister. I cannot remember. To be recognised as a proper temple, a Fayth needs must. I am young, as things go. I've not yet remembered emotions.
Yuna's shoulders sank.”I'm sorry.”
The priestess smiled again, and it was filled with the radiance of the sun. Don't be sorry. Be what I could not.
Bevelle was as full of shadows and hypocrisy as ever, and her skin crawled to be back.
A boy stood in front of her, his eyes masked by his tattered hood. Do you know who I am? he asked, his voice not yet broken. Do you remember the day we met?
Yuna nodded. Her head filled with the sound of voices, of Seymour's twisted laughter.
Don't be afraid, the boy said. He might have been smiling. I sent someone to help you. Please be nice to him, he cries.
The dark, untested waters of Baaj; lingering ghosts and old fears.
A simple request, words born of the wind as it beat against her ears. Stop my son.
It was dark, too dark, and smelled of rotting stone.
A man stood proudly, a hefty pouch at his waist.
Do you know who I am? he thundered. Do you remember the day we met?
“I do,” Yuna answered. It had been a hard hit on her purse.
You never get something for nothing, he continued. I'm not to deal with those who would offer false words and broken vows. There is always a price to be paid. Will you pay it?
“I will,” she said, standing tall. “I will no longer be afraid.”
---
Yuna awoke. Sunlight streamed in through the eroded holes in the wall, and she felt reborn.
“Your face is brightened anew,” Belgemine noted as Yuna walked through the foyer. Her smile was honest and clear. “Do you understand what I ask now, my lady?”
Yuna nodded. “I-yes, I understand.”
“Then go,” Belgemine cajoled, handing the Summoner her cloak. “And do not look back.”